Double Negitives
by Echante
Summary: Literature warns against double negatives, but in math, they equal positive. Maddison, Addek, MerDer...


This is a two-shot... Another one should be up later... Oh my god people, did you see the previews for the CROSSOVER!!! .com/2009/01/greys-anatomy-spoilers-mark-and-addison/ OH MY GOD this is my dream come true.

_________________________________________________________________

_Literature warns against double negatives, but in math, they equal positive...  
_

She watches the train wreck as it 'choo's' and sputters towards her position on the sidewalk. He would wander several blocks, strutting and proudly showing off his conquest, when another, seemingly better one would catch his eye and he would wander towards her. His sudden abandonment would not sit passively on his first Barbie doll, and she would march over and confront her competition. He always escaped unscathed.

She laughs because its times as these that leave her wondering if women were truly deserving of feminism, so she doesn't notice him until he speaks: "You know, talking to yourself can be construed as insanity."

She smirks. She can't help it. "Are you judging me?"

He raises an eye-brow, "No, I'm ambivalent, but I was warning you in case you were the sort of person who cared what people think."

But she doesn't reply, instead, another bout of laughter stumbles through her throat and belches out in a horribly embarrassing snort. She giggles, and apologizes while he looks on amused, "What?" he prods.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes again, "I was observing your bitches." She smirks up at him as he follows her gaze, meeting the pointed glares of the two girls he'd hit on before her.

"Oh." He says, surprised and she laughs again at his inobservance, "Whoops." He shrugs apathetically.

She gapes at him, "They're not objects you know," she scowls, "regardless of whatever animal instincts your ass-headed brain has, you can't just play with their emotions like that."

He looks bemused, "Why?"

"Cause it's not nice." She tells him.

He laughs.

"What? Seriously!" she protests.

"I believe you… but you should know: I'm not a very nice guy."

"I can see that…" she mutters and he laughs.

"So…" He begins, and she can see his mouth winding into position, readying itself for the release of a spewing of romanticism, manufactured for charm, and as insincere as it is poetic. She decides she wants to hear what he has to say, just because, so instead of scoffing in his face, she lets him continue, "Anyone ever tell you that although you're kind of a bitch and one of the most opinionated women I've ever met, and I've only known you for like what…two seconds? But you're also probably one of the most beautiful people east of Hollywood."

And she laughs, because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do when being complemented so gruffly and unconventionally, and also because she seems to be doing that a lot to him, and she's one who sticks to familiarity. He grins back at her, because he interprets her laughter as appreciativeness, but the cocky bastard in his smile only makes her laugh harder. "Thanks… I think," she finally manages, and he nods in reply, "Just speaking the truth."

She smiles, "Somehow, I don't doubt that." And he nods again and she laughs, she doesn't know why.

When she recovers, she extends a hand and he shakes it groaning, "I can think of a better way to say hello."

She laughs, "Do you want to know my name or no?"

He nods, so she tells him, "Candi Fox."

She laughs at the incredulous look that spreads across his face, "Seriously?"

"No." she says bluntly, and then teases, "Did you really think, I'd tell _you_… a complete stranger, my real name?"

He seems to actually ponder the thought before returning his gaze to her face and staring, or so it seems to her, dead straight into her eyes. It sends shivers across her spine and she tries to shake herself, he extends his hand decisively saying, "Dwayne Johnson," and then smirks, "Dwayne 'the rock' Johnson."

She grins and receives his handshake, "Nice to meet you Mr. Rock."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Foxy."

She smiles at him over her shoulder as she walks away, "See you later," she calls.

He's at the same spot the next day and greats her, effectively ruining the conversation he was 'engrossed' in: "Hello Foxy," he says, the sparkle in his eye prominent and knowing.

She grins, "Hey Rocky," they fall into steps and she can't seem to shake off the warm feeling about how he, obviously man-whore/womanizer extraordinaire, seemed to be captivated enough by _her _to abandon the _model _he was talking to. Her sixteen year-old self that secretly still worried about waiting in line for the next _Star Wars _movie, or keeping the inside of her clarinet clean, was _swooning. _Her more present, 22 year old side smirked.

"How's my favorite stripper doing?" He asks her, while she enjoys the daggers his abandoned prey was shooting into her back.

"She's good. She'd like to know if her favorite boxer's gotten the shit beat out of him yet."

He shrugs, "He's still standing."

"You know, one of these days, one of them is going to have a boyfriend who's bigger and stronger then you." She scolds.

"Why do you think I took wrestling in high school?" He grins at her, toothy yet not scary. She thinks he's the only one who can really pull it off.

She laughs, "Were you any good?"

"State Champ babe."

"Wow." She raises her eyebrows in appreciation, and then stops, and runs a finger down his chest, "So I'm talking to an athlete here." She looks up at him and allows the corner of her lips to inch upwards.

He leans in to kiss her, and she can feel the heat of his breathe on her lips. She considers giving in for a moment, before deciding to stick to the game plan; she has a boyfriend after all. She transfers her palm to his chest and pushes him away, laughing, "You really thought it would be that easy?"

He feigns a wounded look, "You're a bitch you know that?"

She smiles, "I'm taken honey. Get yours somewhere else."

"That's it?"

"Yup." She smiles to herself in front of him. She would never admit it, but secretly, she had a soft spot for jerks, they make for enthralling banter partners. She loves her boyfriend, really, she does, but sometimes he's just so… _boring. _She knows she looks conventional, in her black off shoulder cashmere sweater and $250 designer jeans that disappear into 3 and ½ inch Prada boots, but she has a streak of recklessness that even an all-girl boarding school and cultivation in the high end society couldn't beat away.

So she grabs him, not by the hand, because that is extremely reminiscent of _relationship _stuff, and she's sure he's not that kind of guy. So she grabs his bicep, which was probably a bad idea, because the hard muscle she finds plummeted her mind to the gutter, and she found herself swatting away rather _dirty _situations. But she swallows and drags him into a nearby Starbucks saying, "I want to try the pumpkin stuff."

And he raises an eyebrow, "We could try other stuff, you know, at home…"

She slaps him. He protests and she shrugs, "You deserved it."

He mumbles something about cold-hearted bitches and she laughs.

She tells him about her boyfriend, nothing personal, but amuses him with his quirks while he makes comments about how he has a friend who does the exact same thing, or how he finds that rather _girly _of him. He talks to her about school, and his dream of becoming a plastic surgeon, so he could, 'feel up breasts and get paid for it' and she scowls and reprimands him with a, 'you're a pig' to which he feigns hurt and ignores her for two seconds. She makes it up to him by kissing him on the cheek. She's amazed at the easiness of the conversation.

"I have to meet my friend's girlfriend on Saturday." He says, making a face and with scowling undertones in his voice.

She laughs, "Yeah? Well I have to meet my boyfriend's best friend… What if he's a pig?"

He looks up, "Like me?"

She screws her mouth up and thinks, "Well, at least you're a cute pig."

"Cute? You serious?"

She can practically _feel _her eyes sparkling, "You're a piggy!"

"Candi…" he starts, "I am nothing like a…" he spits the word, "'piggy.'"

She giggles at her nickname, and rolls her eyes saying, "okay…" dragging out the 'y' so he knows she really is doing anything **except** conceding the point.

He pouts and she pinches his cheeks and baby talks him, "You're such a cute little piggy, yes you are!"

He looks mortified, "I cannot believe you did that in public."

She laughs.

"Bitch…" he mutters.

She stands up, and she is almost out of breath because her secret vice lies in the exhilaration of verbal combat. Even though she's always been distinguished by her superior mathematics, she has a secret love for literature, and she's never been able to decide a distinct favorite. "See you later." She yells behind her without turning back.

"Bye Foxy." He calls. She grins.

"You're fussing… Addison? You're fussing," Derek looks at her with concern, "Savannah, tell her she's fussing."

Savannah shrugs, "Addy? You're fussing."

"I know." She growls.

Savvy shrugs again, this time in Derek's general direction, "She does this when she's nervous."

"Why is she nervous?" he asks.

"Cause… This is your _best friend. _Derek? You remember telling me about him like… every second of the live long day? What if he doesn't like me? Or thinks I'm stealing you from him? Or thinks I'm a slut or something!" She wails into one big finish. Derek winces, thinking from the outsider's view, she's the antagonist in some sort of infantile play, where problems don't involve work, or exams or cancer or hunger, but it involves the opinion of his best friend, who would probably love her cause she has C cups and a hot ass.

"Okay." He tells her, catching her by the waist, "First of all, he's going to love you, because despite all of your neurotic quirks," he smirks into her hair as he feels her scowl, "I have yet to meet someone who doesn't. Secondly, I am not an inanimate object, and I'm sure I can't be stolen… I am very open to socialist possession, although if that involves cutting me open…" she slaps his arm lightly, but begins to smile, "And thirdly, if he thinks you're a slut, then he is the biggest hypocrite in the _universe _because he is the definition of man-slut." She laughs at this, "And lastly, he's going to love you cause I _know _him. And he will."

She kisses him on the lips this time, murmuring, "I love **you.**"

He grins, "Love you too. Now can you stop fussing?"

She nods meekly, but their moment is interrupted by Savannah, who is retching in the corner, "You know if you two were going to be all lovey-dovey you should have at least let me bring Weiss!"

They blush and mutter their apologies while Savannah looks on disgustedly, but secretly a little happy for her friend. After all, Derek was, in essence, everything you could ask for in a man, and Addison, she thinks, is the only woman who could deserve him.

Her train of thought is interrupted when the doorbell rings and Addison jumps up, rearranging the pillows and holding her breath. Derek laughs and goes to get the door, and in walks two years of stories and build-up, right to this moment.

She looks at him aghast. He smirks.

Derek gives them strange looks but writes off her panic as nervousness and introduces them, "Mark, this is Addison… Addie, this is Mark…"

He looks introspective as he tastes the word between his teeth, "Addison…" he says, "I thought it was Candi?"

She laughs.


End file.
